


When You Left

by MissBlissWrites



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Low Honor Arthur, Maybe - Freeform, Spoilers, Super Angst, chapters, i guess, idk - Freeform, tumblr pompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 17:25:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17964878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissBlissWrites/pseuds/MissBlissWrites
Summary: There was no point keeping it a secret. You’d be found out no matter what in due time. You dug the palms of your hands into your eyes as you sobbed, “Hosea… Hosea, I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant- and.. an-and… and it’s Arthur’s. I know- I know… I know it’s his.” You were to busy rubbing your tears away to see the astonishment on Hosea’s face. He was always nice to you, ever since you were a kid. He was more of a father to you than Dutch. If there was anyone you could talk to, it was surely Hosea.He understood where you were coming from. His face dropped and he said, “Oh, (Y/N),” He took a deep breath, “I’m… This truly is worth being disappointed over,” He looked around, the rain didn’t seem like letting up anytime soon. He lightly grabbed your arm, “Let’s go inside anyways, get you dry, alright?” You just nodded your head and followed him into the bar.





	1. I Should Have Known

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the first part of my two part low honor!Arthur fic!! An anon asked "Can you please write something where low honor Arthur, who doesn’t want any kids, ends up getting his s/o pregnant?"
> 
> Enjoy the read!! Let me know what you think!!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr!! ((missblisswrites.tumblr.com))

Everything was cold. The air, your skin, the wall you were leaning on. Cold and unloving, unforgiving and unfair. Nothing in the world felt warm or kind. Not anymore at least. You could barely understand the situation, despite how simple it was. You let out a heavy sigh, looking up at the storm clouds forming overhead. Saint-Denis was busy as always, even with such a dark cloud growing above it.

It felt like that cloud was yours. It was there to thunder loudly and rain even more on your already awful day. Raindrops sprinkled down slowly, moving in the wind that picked up and tangled your hair. Dread grew like a wildfire inside your heart and mind, your thoughts blazed hot as you tried your best to not cry in public.

What were you going to do? Life was never very kind to you, to begin with. You grew up on the streets as an orphan. You became a criminal and was welcomed with open arms into a gang. You were still in that gang, Dutch Van der Linde’s wild world opened you up to an opportunity not many like you had. That was all very much about to change. You walked the sidewalks as the rain grew heavier and harder. It wasn’t long before you were soaked from head to toe. At least this way no one could see the few tears escaping from your hollow eyes.

There wasn’t much to explain. Simply put, you were pregnant. And so you were pregnant with a child you didn’t really want, nor did anyone really want. Especially the man responsible for this. You had no idea who to turn too. Honestly, you were pretty set in the idea that you’d run into the woods and starve to death. You were not fit to be anybody’s mother. You were an outlaw, a wanted criminal, and a bit of a reckless fool. That’s what got you here in the first place.

“(Y/N)!” You snapped out of your thought, looking around in the rain for who was calling out to you. It was Hosea, he had brought you Saint-Denis and you totally forgot he was waiting for you in a bar a few streets down from the doctor’s office. He was waving at you, trying to get you to walk over under the terrace and out of the rain.

You looked around, noticing the street was completely empty. You ran across the brick road and towards Hosea. He gave you a smile, completely unaware of the dire situation. 

“No good books?” He asked you. For a second you were confused, but then you remembered the lie you told him earlier. You said you wanted to get some books, and used that to cover up the fact you went to see a doctor to confirm your suspicions. 

“Oh-… No,” You took a free hand and swiped away the mixture of tears and rain, “Not today,” You sounded very defeated and somber, “Nothing good today,”

Hosea picked up on your poor mood, “They’ll be more books, (Y/N),” He put a hand on your shoulder as he guided you to walk with him, “No need to sound so disappointed. I’m sure Dutch has something you can read too.” His kindness was toxic. This made it very hard for your fragile mind to handle. He started to walk inside the little shabby saloon but you stopped. Something told you not to go inside, that you’d make it a much more awful day if you gave into the depression swelling in your heart.

When you didn’t follow him in, Hosea looked back at you with a question as he raised his brows, “Something wrong, (Y/N)?”

Thunder cascaded down like a sonic boom right above the city. You barely flinched as the lighting flicker in the sky. Biting your lip and staring hard at the ground, you just shook your head, “I can’t…”

Confused, Hosea step closer and asked, “You can’t?”

As your lip started to quiver and the shooting pain swelled in your through, you couldn’t stop the sob that rolled from your chest like you were dying, “I can’t go in there, I’ll be.. I’ll be an awful person… if I do,” You started to sob, each hiccup matching the rain behind you. It was like you were the sky itself, crying out in pain and fear.

Hosea rushed to pull you closer to the building and further away from the street and rain. He didn’t talk you inside the saloon but you stood in front of one of the windows, “(Y/N). Hey- hey now, what’s gotten into you, (Y/N)?”

There was no point keeping it a secret. You’d be found out no matter what in due time. You dug the palms of your hands into your eyes as you sobbed, “Hosea… Hosea, I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant- and.. an-and… and it’s Arthur’s. I know- I know… I know it’s his.” You were to busy rubbing your tears away to see the astonishment on Hosea’s face. He was always nice to you, ever since you were a kid. He was more of a father to you than Dutch. If there was anyone you could talk to, it was surely Hosea.

He understood where you were coming from. His face dropped and he said, “Oh, (Y/N),” He took a deep breath, “I’m… This truly is worth being disappointed over,” He looked around, the rain didn’t seem like letting up anytime soon. He lightly grabbed your arm, “Let’s go inside anyways, get you dry, alright?” You just nodded your head and followed him into the bar.

It was small and musty inside, with only a handful of people. There was a spot in the back were you and Hosea sat down. The bartender came over, asking if you wanted anything. Hosea kindly turned him away with a smile.

You tried your best not to cry, it was embarrassing. You felt so lost and weak, you truly felt like you were at the dead end of your life.

“You’ll be alright,” Hosea told you from across the small round table, “I’m sure we can find a way to work this out- You know Abigal can really hel-”

You cut Hosea off with a sharp and quick, “No,” You let out a small sob, and covered your mouth, as if the whisper you let out was from the devil himself, “I don’t want it. I don’t want this baby.” You really didn’t. You weren’t that young, you didn’t know how to be a mother. You were not fit to be a mother either. Arthur surely wasn’t going to help you, you knew that for a fact. When you started…. getting involved with him, you both made it very clear that your relationship was purely physical. Nothing more than that. 

It was definitely a lie at this point that you didn’t have feelings for him in some way shape or form. You definitely cared about him, but you wouldn’t say you loved him. He was, in fact, far worse than you. Over the course of the years, especially now, Arthur had become more and more of a… well… He wasn’t a good man. He was in the same boat as you. 

“What do I do?” You finally asked Hosea. You felt awful because here you were with a life growing inside you and you just wanted to get rid of it. Would you really though? You had no idea what to do.

Hosea nodded his head slowly, he was far more understanding about this than you thought he’d originally been, “Well… You can do everything in your power to kill the child before it’s born. It’s… not the most… It’s not the nicest way and a lot of people will tell you to go to hell, but that’s your decision at the end of the day.” He was right, this wasn’t the nicest option, but it was an option, “Or you… you can wait and wait until the day the child is born and leave them in an orphanage, also not very nice.” No, that’s exactly what happened to you. There was no way in hell that you’d do that, you knew how awful it was to be an orphan left to basically die on the doorsteps of a home for children.

You took a deep breath, shaky and wheezy, “Or… I keep it,” You felt bad calling it an  _it_  but you didn’t have any other names at the moment.

“That is the last option,” Hosea nodded his head, “I’m sure the gang wouldn’t mind.”

You shook your head quickly while rubbing the snot out from under your nose, “I can’t stay in the gang- I can’t… I can’t be around Arthur.”

That what the other thing scaring you. You really didn’t want to get him involved. You knew how he felt about the topic already, it only felt right to keep him in the dark.

Thank God that Hosea understood your pain, he seemed to agree with you on that, “Arthur has already had this happen to him before, he didn’t want to be a father then, nothing will make him want to be a father now. I’m really sorry, (Y/N), but you chose the worst person to mess around with. The man is so broken, he’s… Arthur really isn’t worth your time, dear. You could do so much better than that empty-headed thug.”

You shrugged and shook your head, “I don’t love him, not really. I mean… I care about him. We grew up together, you and Dutch raised us to be the perfect outlaws,” The poor joke caused a brief chuckle between the two of you. You looked out the tiny window across the bar, seeing the rain had started to let up. You felt barely better, but you felt as though you had a clearer mind.

“Are you going to leave then?” Hosea finally asked the big question. At the moment, your answer was yes. But you knew when the time came to actually leave, you might not be able to do it. You stubbornly didn’t want to give up the only life you knew, but at the same time, you already made that to leave when you decided to fool around with Arthur. The risk was there, you knew it, but it’s hard to say no when temptation was so nice to say yes too.

Finally, after several minutes of mulling it all over, you nodded your head, “Yeah… Yes. I need too,”

“And that means keeping the child?”

You nodded your head, saying, “Yes… Maybe. I won’t… I won’t be so terrible and force a miscarriage. When it’s born… I’ll decide if I can leave them in an orphanage or not. It depends. If I can get away now and secure a better life, then maybe I’ll be a mother. But I will not raise this child in a gang, or living on the run, or in any other place that isn’t right to raise a kid.”

Hosea had a little smile twitch on his face, “You already sound like a mother,” He said lightly. It honestly made you feel… better, “But you have to know how hard it is to raise a child on our own. Even if it is Arthur’s wouldn’t you want the help of others?”

“Honestly,” You tangled your fingers together, holding your hands and ringing them nervously, “I just need money. A good amount of money and I think I’d be okay. Maybe a how-to book too.” It felt good to let the corner of your lips curl into the smallest smile as you and Hosea shared another light chuckle.

The rain had finally stopped and so you and Hosea left and headed back to Shady Belle. The rider there was silent, but in a comforting way, It gave you time to think about what to do next. You made up your mind to leave tonight. Hosea said he’d talk to Dutch and explain the situation as best he could, he even said he’d steal some camp funds for you to be on your way.

You had your own tent pitched behind the farmhouse of Shady Belle. You beelined to get there as quickly as you could while Hosea worked some magic. You started taking everything down, ignoring the stares and silent questions. You made sure to pack everything as neatly and tightly as you could.

Eventually, someone came over to ask you what was going on, and why you were packing your things up. That someone, was Arthur, of course, the most curious about you and your actions.

He’d also be lying if he said didn’t care about you. Though the feeling was mutual, he didn’t love you like a lover would, but he did love you for the simple fact that you’ve been in his life for so long. You could remember when Dutch and Hosea stole you away from the orphanage shortly after they stole Arthur away from the streets. It wasn’t long before the picked up John too. What a dysfunctional family this was.

While you folding up the last of your close, Arthur came over and stood there, watching you without saying a thing. This was the first time you’ve seen in three days. And the last time you spoke to him was almost a week ago. You had already started distancing yourself from him. At least he didn’t seem to mind, and he wasn’t being clingy about it. That was good.

“Can I help you?” You asked him without turning away from your work.

“I think I should be the one asking you that,” He retorted. He stood there with his arms crossed like he was your boss or something.

“No, I don’t need any help,” You put your last shirt into the small suitcase you had and slammed it closed and latched it shut.

“Where are you going?” Arthur asked the question everyone was wondering. It was obvious that you were packing your things up to leave, “How long will you be gone?” Like he honestly cared? No. You didn’t believe he did.

You had nearly packed everything. You wondered if you had enough room on your horse for everything. You didn’t have a lot, just a suitcase and two bags and a tent rolled up, “I don’t know,” You lied to him, “Not sure,” it wasn’t that much of a lie. You had a vague idea that you’d be heading north.

“So you don’t know where you’re going? You’re just… packing up and leaving? And you don’t know when you’ll be back?” He had some nerve to give you the attitude that was laced in his voice.

You finally stood up straight and snapped around to look at him, “What does it matter to you?” You felt a wild rage flare up inside you. This was just as much as his fault that you had to do this.

“It matters when I see someone packing up and leaving, especially when it’s someone whos been here twice as long as everyone else. So are you coming back or not?” It was very obvious that you were leaving and clearly, you didn’t have the intention coming back, so why was he asking.

“Arthur,” You started, “I’m leaving, and that’s it. I don’t need to explain myself to you,” You walked past him as you piled your last bag together with the others.

“I think you do,” He said, which irritated you, “I don’t think Dutch would take lightly to you leaving eith-”

You cut him off, snapping, “Dutch already knows! And he doesn’t care! So you should stop caring too!” You pointed a finger at him, glaring, and angrier than you should have been, “Go back to getting drunk and shooting people for fun!” 

For a second, it looked like you hurt him. He winced at your words ever so slightly. That was quickly replaced with a wave of anger all his own, “What the hell has gotten into you? Where is your sense of loyalty? You’re just running away, huh?”

God, why did he have to make this so hard, “Because. Arthur. I’m leaving, and I’m not coming back. Why do you even care? We aren’t married, we only fucked a few times and all of a sudden it’s like you own me! I’m my own person, I can come and go as I please, and I plan on going and going far away from here and you!” Everyone in camp was either watching your listening in at the point. Not every day did they get to see drama like this.

You grabbed onto your two bags, quickly walking away and to your horse. Arthur was just as quick to follow you. He could have been nice and grabbed the only bag you had left but, no. He was more concerned about himself, or about you but… in a selfish way.

“So this gang means nothing to you? Everything we’ve done and it’s just… nothing?”

Why couldn’t he leave you alone? Jesus! You rushed back to get your last bag and of course, Arthur followed you. This was embarrassing, you wished you could have just slipped away in the night. 

As you grabbed your last bag, Arthur tried taking it from you, “Go away!” You yelled at him, “Fuck off, Arthur! I’m nothing to you! You know I am. Everything is nothing to you!” You kept your bag out of his reach, “You’re just an awful man! How many times this month did we break you out of jail? How many corpses did you rob today? How many people did you steal from? You use to be so good, you used to have morals. Now you just don’t care. So fuck off! I don’t need you, I don’t need your help, I don’t owe you anything and I don’t need to tell you why I’m leaving. So just **_fuck off!!_** ”

Finally, it got through to him that you weren’t going to give in to his demands. He stood there, stunned by the sheer venom dripping off each of your words. He didn’t say anything, he just glared at you for a second before turning away and stomping off like a child.

Once you saw his back, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You noticed Dutch and Hosea standing on the steps of the farmhouse. You looked around and everyone was staring at you. The urge to cry was strong, but you swallowed it down and went over to Hosea.

“(Y/N)-” Hosea started but Dutch cut him off.

“I’ll talk to him,” He said, “Be well, girl,” He put a hand on your shoulder as he passed you and he gave you this knowing look. He understood what was going on and gave you his blessing to leave and do what was right for you and your unborn child.

You turned to Hosea, he held out a stack of cash. There was a lot there, “This should be enough to help your for a month or two,” You took the cash and stuck it into your back pocket.

“Thank you… Thank you so much, Hosea,” You shared a brief hug with him, thanking him one more time.

As you mounted your horse, you tried not to look back. You most didn’t look back because you didn’t want anyone to see you crying, but at the same time you didn’t want to hold onto the people you were leaving behind. You thought that the sooner you got out of here and the sooner you started a new life, the more better off you’d be for you and your child. Maybe one day you could come back, far off in the future. You tied not thinking about it, setting your eyes on the horizon and a future you weren’t sure you’d survive. 


	2. I've Moved On

A warm and gentle breeze greeted his skin. He cleared his throat a few times, hating the constant onslaught of phlegm he had to fight just to breath. Arthur was eternally grateful for the warm mountain air that tempted him. It was easy to breathe, and he felt light, almost like he was floating on the wind the guided him through the tall mountain passes. 

The mighty stallion he road might have disagreed, but Arthur much enjoyed this long and quiet journey. It had given him time to think, reflect, and judge himself. There was a lot to think about, between now and then. He had spent the vast majority of his ride already trying to talk himself out of doing it. T _his was a stupid idea_ , he would tell himself. But then the next second he’d say,  _If I don’t do this, I will regret it_.

Arthur’s eyes perked up when he noticed the trail began to descend, “We must be getting close, almost there, boyah,” The horse didn’t reply, but still, Arthur leaned down to give the beast a gentle pat.

He thought back on how nearly a week ago he had fainted in the streets of Saint-Denis. How the Pinkertons raided a camp in the swamps. How Dutch was abusing his power over the local Native Americans. He thought a lot about his talks with Rains Fall. He thought most about what Dutch told him in Gurama. He could still hear those words ring in his ears like a screaming bell that wouldn’t stop chiming.

_“She was pregnant, Arthur! She would be useless to us anyway! It’s better she’s gone, we have fewer people to worry about!”_

How? He knew, but he didn’t. Months had passed since then. Enough months that maybe, just maybe, that baby had been born. Arthur thought of a million reasons why you left. He narrowed them down but never would have guessed which one. Yet again, much to his surprise -but not really- he had fathered another child. 

Finding you was the hardest part. When Arthur learned he was dying, he wanted to try and become a better man. He started helping more, robbing less, and doing what he thought was right. Which including going behind Dutch’s back. Again. And Again, and again. Even now he was. Dutch forbid Arthur to go searching for you, and for whatever reason, Dutch didn’t give a reason why. Arthur, being Arthur, did what he so damn wanted, especially if with the fact that he had fewer and fewer days to spare. This was one of the last things he wanted to do. After this… He needed to do everything he could for John.

Arthur spent the first three days looking for you by bribing post office men, and mailmen of the sorts by looking for a Miss (Y/N) (L/N). On his last day, he finally found someone that knew your name. The mailman said the last he heard, she was sending letters from Lake Alma, a large logging town in a deep valley far beyond the Grizzles, north of Ambarino. Very north of Ambarino. It was about a four-day ride north. 

He could see further down the mountain trail, as he ventured further into the valley, a welcome sign that said  _We Welcome you to Lake Alma!_

Arthur felt very nervous, he had an address, and he hoped it was right. He wasn’t sure if you lived in town, or outside of town. Awful thoughts ping-ponged around in his head. He started getting confused and flustered about what to say to you. Arthur’s stomach twisted in knots and his breath grew thicker and heavier as he started to wheeze. He took a scrap of paper out and looked at it again, reading the street and address number. 

This couldn’t be right… No. Arthur found himself staring at a very large house. He’d go as far to say a mansion. Arthur was very confused, but this was the only lead he had. Perhaps you stayed here at one point? There was no way on earth you could afford to live in a place like this. Maybe you worked here? 

He got off his horse, slow and steady, and took his time walking up to the front porch of this big white house in the middle town. The neighbors had homes just as big and pretty and white. God, this was uncomfortable. Arthur found himself at the front door faster than he expects. He took a breath, shaky and weak, then knocked on the door three times. 

A second passed, then another, a few more then suddenly the large glass door was opened. A man stood there, tall stern. He wasn’t much taller than Arthur, but he had dark black hair that matched a small fuzzy beard. He peered over his half-moon glasses with old tired eyes. Arthur noticed he wore the kind of clothes you’d see a doctor in, “Can I help you?”

Startled and stunned, Arthur froze before clearing his throat, “Uh-”

The man cut him off, “I only see patients at my office,” He studied Arthur’s poor health, “Which is closed today.”

“N-no… Sorry, Mister,” Arthur tipped his head, trying to hide his face under his hat, “I was looking for a Miss (Y/N) (L/N)… Um.. she was a friend of mine-”

This bastard sure was rude. He cut Arthur off again while raising he brow and asked, “You’re… Arthur… Aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?” How did this man know his name? Who was he? Did he know you?

“Just a second,” The strange man closed the door quickly and Arthur could see past the distorted glass as he went deep inside the house. Moments passed and Arthur felt a flashback to when he visited Mary. His heart picked up, he felt nervous and self-conscious. 

Suddenly there was movement behind the door and the nob clicked open. 

“Arthur?” There you were. He couldn’t believe his eyes. You… You looked like a princess, dressed in an all-white dress, with your hair done up pretty, with earing and jewels. Like… God, he thought you were so much different than the cowgirl he knew. Always covered in mud, grime and dried blood. Wearing pants and hats with guns to the teeth.

“(Y-Y/N)… I…” He noticed how thin you were, “You look different,” Was all he could get out of his mouth.

You opened the door a little more, step out and onto the porch, “So do you,” You said grimly. It had almost been a year since you last saw him. Almost. Maybe a month or two shy. He looked… he looked downright awful, “What happened to you?” Funny, that was the only thing you could also say. How did he find you? What… What did he want?

Arthur gave you a small smile while reaching in his pocket and pulling out a cigarette. He let out a low hum while lighting it, “Lots of things,” He clicked his tongue, “But mostly… mostly just here and there.” You could see how hard it was for him to smoke that thing. He coughed a few times, bad, and he fought to catch his breath.

You’ve seen this all before, and you were damn familiar with it, “Arthur… you’re sick aren’t you?”

He chuckled to your surprise, “You guessed it,” He sounded so bitter, angry even, “I’m dying, (Y/N).” He sounded like he was done talking, but he took a deep breath and brought his gaze to meet yours. You forgot just how blue and sad his eyes were, “I know about the baby, (Y/N). Dutch told me,”

You blinked several times, your mouth hung open slightly. You took in a sharp breath and shook your head slightly, “I-…Wh-what? Is that why you came here?”

Arthur was about to speak again but the stranger showed up again. He was really getting on Arthur’s nerves. Instead, Arthur got angry and little snotty, “Who is this guy?” He asked you as you waved a hand at the stranger.

The man didn’t seem fazed, he didn’t even react to Arthur’s immature tone. In fact, he just looked down at you, giving you the chance to explain. Arthur stared at you, waiting for an answer while you knitted your brows and frowned slightly, “My husband,” you said, “Arthur, this is Nick,”

“Nicolas Garcon, Dr. Nicolas Garcon,” The man’s voice was suddenly thick with a heavy French accent. Arthur very much suddenly hated this Nicolas.

You turned to your husband, a smile on your face, “It’s fine dear, go collect the rest of those books for me, please? Leave them in my gazebo and I’ll meet you there later?”

Nicolas didn’t say anything. He apparently wasn’t much of a man for words. He simply went on his way, back into the house and thankfully away from Arthur. On the other hand, Arthur was very… surprised. You married this guy? Of all the people? You either really loved him, or something he had, and Arthur wasn’t sure which.

After a few seconds, you looked back to Arthur, “Would you like to come in?”

His face was still hanging in disbelief, “Sure,” He didn’t sound too sure. Arthur followed you inside. The house was very nice. Smaller and cuter than Angelo Bronte’s house, but just as white and gold and glistening as Henri Lemieux’s large home. Regardless, he couldn’t deny it was beautiful. He had been in many mansion this past year, but yours was by far his favorite. He could tell you made this place your home.

There were books everywhere, you were an avid reader and enjoyed learning. He could see the painting you must have to choose, they were all of flowers or landscapes. Arthur faintly remembered a time when you were younger, bugging him to draw you pictures to hang in your tent. He even saw photographs hanging on the wall.

“That’s me-” Arthur caught you by surprise, you stopped and looked back at him. He was staring at a photo of himself, Dutch, Hosea, and you, “That’s… us. You kept this thing?”

You had nearly forgotten that picture you put up. It was one of the only things you had left to remind you of your old life. You missed it every now and then, “Yeah,” It hurt a little, “You guys are the only family I know,” Arthur kept looking at it, you could see him processing forbidden emotions. 

A woman unknown to Arthur came rushing down the large staircase you were already making your way towards, “Madam!” She called lightly, “Madam, the little one had woken up,” She was a short chubby woman, who looked twice as old as Arthur.

Both you and Arthur perked at her announcement, “Thank you, Laura,” You smiled at her, thankful she was around and here to help, “Can you hold on a moment, I’ve got a guest. We’ll be up shortly,” The maid nodded her head, give Arthur a smile as well before heading back upstairs.

Arthur looked back at you. You were a faint hollow shadow of your formal self, the real you. This? This… rich man’s wife? This wasn’t you, it couldn’t be, “How?” He simply asked, “How… Did you-”

You knew what he was asking, so you swallowed the lump in your throat, “Luck I guess. After I left the camp,” You paused, remembering things you didn’t want to remember, “I… I fled into the mountains. I knew I had to get out of the area, go somewhere I knew Dutch wouldn’t want to go. I made it here after two weeks of getting lost in the snow.”

“Then you met him?” He gestured to what Arthur assumed was your wedding photo, “And married him?”

Your laugh startled him and made his heartache. You giggled behind your hand, “Oh no- Nick and I only just got married, about a week ago.”

Something about that made Arthur irrational angry. His dumb man brain told him he had a chance to come up here earlier and he should have come up earlier. He cursed himself for prolonging this for so long.

“But- yes, Nick was the first person I met when I got here. I was already two months pregnant, starving and nearly frozen to death. He found me and took me into his home. This home. He’s been nothing more than helpful, and we are very similar people,” 

Arthur found that extremely hard to believe, you could tell by the way his face twisted up. He gave you that look often when you were younger. It made a small part of your heart flicker awake, that you thought was long since dead. It just didn’t make sense, so he asked it, “Why did you marry him?”

“He asked… And,” Your voice went a little soft, “This.. this was the best option for my daughter.”

A daughter? He had a daughter? Arthur’s face lit up, then went pale as a sheet. In his weak and sick state, he didn’t try to hide his emotions anymore. He was like reading an open book. You couldn’t imagine what he was feeling. And he was feeling a lot.

Arthur lowered his head eventually, he took on a grim tone, “I’m sorry,” He said slowly, “This- I… I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did, the last time we spoke. You were right, (Y/N). About everything. You opened my eyes up to that, and so did the threat of death that constantly hangs over my head.”

You forgave Arthur a long time ago. You thought you would never see him again, or anyone for that matter. To his surprise, and your own a little bit, you had turned into someone completely different from your formal self. You became a wife and a mother, something Arthur never saw in you. You became domesticated, in a way.

A somber look grew on both your faces. You swore that you’d keep your daughter miles and miles away from your former life. You devoted every second of your time to her, which was a surprise to you. It was a lot easier than you first thought, maybe that’s why you helplessly fell in love with Nicolas. For the first time in what felt like years, you found someone who wanted nothing more than to help you and make a better person out of you. He showered you in the attention you so craved from Arthur, or from any on-again-off-again lover. 

The fact that Arthur came all this way to find you, to find your daughter and confront you about it. It made you confused and honestly sad. If it was not for the fact that Arthur was quite literally dying, you’d probably turn him away.

“Do you want to see her?” You finally asked the question that Arthur couldn’t quite ask himself.

He stood there, silent, still and sad. His hat covered the vast majority of his face. Though it was barely noticeable, you saw the quick little nod and heard the tiny little, “Yes.” 

You went upstairs, Arthur following close behind. The  _tink tink tink_ of his spurs along the hardwood floors reminded you of the days long in the past. Seeing Arthur here? It hurt you honestly. It opened up wounds you thought healed, but really you only covered them up. You stopped at a white door that had a little pink sign on it that said,  _Meadow._

Arthur could put two and two together, “How old is she?” He asked before you could open the door. He was so nervous. It was just a baby, it wasn’t like she’d know who he was. It’s not like you’d let her know who he was either. She’d grow with Nicolas as a father, not Arthur, and that’s all she needed.

“Only a month,” You turned the door nob, “She was born a few weeks premature, so she’s small,” The crisp white room nearly blinded Arthur when he looked inside.

The nursery was cute, small and neat. He eyes immediately locked on a small crib where the maid Laura was standing. She smiled at them then excused herself. You walked over to your daughter without hesitation, unlike Arthur was seemed physically scared of a baby, “Come on,” You quipped, “She only bite a little.”

Arthur slowly tip-toed his way closer and closer to the crib. There inside he found possibly the smallest most helpless baby he’s ever seen. LIttle baby Meadow had large blue eyes that stared up at the world, and thin curly blonde hair growing in every direction. Arthur’s brows knitted together as he gazed down at this little girl. His face hardened, and you could see how much this hurt him.

“She looks like you,” You said quietly. She really did, she looked nothing like you in your opinion. She had Arthur’s eyes and his light hair. Her face was soft and round with little defining features yet.

“I’m…I…” He was at a loss for words, “Meadow,” He said the name, tasting it on his tongue. It was a fitting name, he thought, she was as beautiful as a wild meadow filled with flowers swaying with the waves of wind that passed over it, “Hello, Meadow.” Arthur bit at his upper lip, he was fighting emotions he thought he’d never feel again. But this time it was far more worse, and these emotions were very unwanted, “I’m sorry I can’t be your daddy, little girl, sometimes I wish I could,” He reached down slowly into the crib, holding a finger out for her. She grabbed it fast and held on tight, “You got a really smart, brave, and pretty mama. You got a rich daddy, a big house, and a life I could never give you,” He smiled when Meadow looked up at him and giggled, smiling her own toothless cheeky baby smile.

Hearing Arthur say those things touched your heart and soul. You could feel his pain, fear, and regret waving off him like a violent storm. For some reason, you had regret too. What if you stayed there, in camp? Would Arthur have changed? Would you have had a chance with him? But then you remember the newspaper article your husband gave you just a few days ago, about how awful and terrible the Dutch Van der Linde gang was, and all the gang members that have been killed, and all the people the gang killed. You knew in your mind that you made the right choice, but your heart was screaming for a different one.

Arthur kept looking down at his daughter, loving her for the few seconds he’d allow himself too. Eventually, he pulled his hand away and she began to cry. She let out small whimpers like she was begging for him to come back. It was hard, but he did his best to back away from the crib. When you looked away from Meadow, and back to Arthur, you caught a glimpsof him rubbing his eyes with his index finger and thumb. He shed little tears, but he still shed them.

“You made the right choice,” Arthur said after a few moments, “I’m glad you left, there wouldn’t be much of a life for her if you stayed. I wish it was different, I wish I was different,” Arthur paused, and you felt no need to cut into his words. He sounded like he was just rambling off his thoughts, not really thinking about what he said, but more so feeling what he needed to feel, “I’m glad I got to meet her though,” He ne he’d regret if he didn’t, and even though it killed him, he was still glad he did this before his time finally ran out, “I should get going, I don’t want to over stay my welcom-”

“Are you sure, Arthur?” You couldn’t stop the words from blurting out. You became nervous and quickly added, “It’s such along ride back. At-.. At least stay a little longer. Let Nick give you some medicine. He specializes in… in your area of illness. He runs a hospital ward just outside town.”

The offer was tempting, but he really shouldn’t. Yet despite this thought, he found himself say, “Alright.” 

You called for Laura, asking her to watch Meadow for a few moments while you walked Arthur down stairs once more and towards the back of the house. You called out for your husband and asked him to do a simple task, then left Arthur alone with the man he just really didn’t like.

“She says you’re sick,” Nicolas waved a hand for Arthur to step inside what looked like to be a science lab. He was a doctor after all. There was a chair for him to sit in so Arthur made his way towards it.

“Sure, something like that,” He really didn’t want to talk much, though he did look around a lot. He was impressed, “Are you some kind of scientist?”

“Something like that,” If that was his attempt at a joke, it was very unfunny. What did you see in this guy? Clearly, something Arthur didn’t see, “I spend a lot of time studying medicine and diseases. I do a little embalming work as well.” Nicolas walked over to a cabinet and pulled out two little bottles, then a syringe. He filled it halfway with both then returned to Arthur, “This will hurt.” he said in a monotone voice.

Arthur winced as the needle dug into his skin, and he let out a quick breath when he felt the liquid force it’s way into his bloodstream. It burned and felt like he was dying there for a second. Thank god it was over as quickly as it started. 

He was about to thank him, but Noclas started speaking much to his surprise, “She cares about you, I hope you know that,” He was talking about you, “She talks about you often, as much as she’d never admitted that. My opinion of you is very small, probably as small as your opinion of me, but I’d do anything to make her happy, also just like you,” What was he trying to get at? Arthur wasn’t sure but he kept listening, “When (Y/N) first came here, all she did would cry about you, how she missed you and how much it hurt to leave on such a bad note. I couldn’t believe such a man existed to be so… selfish,” Rude, huh? Arthur rolled his eyes, but he knew Nicolas was right, “I did everything in my power to try and make her happy, to make her smile. I bought her books, I drew her pictures, I filled this house with paintings and flowers, and anything she liked. When she gave birth to Meadow, she wished you were there. She doesn’t really love me, Mr. Morgan. Maybe she says she does, but you are the one, and have been the only one on her mind for so long,”

It felt odd, yet there was now a sense of similarity between himself and this stoic doctor. Perhaps they were two sides of the same coin. Arthur could remember how hard and how important it used to be to him to make you happy and see you smile. Just somewhere along the line, he lost his honor, his way of thinking, and morals. It took the threat of death to bring him back up.

Arthur nodded his head slowly, “You’re better for her, better than me at least. For the both of them,”

“I know,” Nicolas deadpanned, “And I love them, even Meadow. I love her as if she was my own.”

At least he was honest. Arthur could respect that. He sat up, getting out of the chair, “Thank you,” he said, “For this-” He raised his shoulder were he got the shot, “And… And for doing something I couldn’t. And can’t.” Both of them shared a silent look, then a nod. Nicolas lead Arthur out of his little lab and back into the center of the house. You were waiting by the door with a small bag in your hands.

When Arthur approached, you held out the bag for him, “Please, there’s some medicine in here, and some food for the trip back. I can’t imagine Dutch being keen on you being gone for so long,” You tried to smile but it didn’t meet your eyes.

“No, you’re right on that,” There was a poor attempt of a smile on his face, “Thank you. Both of you,” Arthur looked at you and your husband then gave a nod of his head, “Take care of her for me,” He was looking at you now, “I don’t know if we’ll ever cross paths again, (Y/N), but… thank you, and… Be well. I hope only good things happen to you.”


End file.
